Secret Places and Hidden Things

Chapter Two

The distant future...

Elliot was standing by the old woods, the trees around him whispering quietly. On the street in front of the house a car crackled by, its tires kicking up the loose gravel. His parents had left for the day and he was home alone—just him and the edge of the wilderness, beckoning.

From off in the trees he heard a rustling. A fox—one of the small, red kind—trotted into view. Elliot stood very still. At first he thought the fox hadn't seen him, but then it walked right up to him and sat down a few feet away. Elliot didn't have much experience with wild animals. He didn't know if this was odd behavior. The fox was small, even for a fox, but it did have large teeth—which it displayed with a majestic yawn as it stretched its front legs. It stood up and walked closer, its head cocked sideways, and Elliot moved back without thinking. The fox stopped again, its long tongue lolling out as it smiled at him. It waited, looking up at him, one of its ears scanning for sounds behind it.

Elliot didn't move. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to startle the fox, but he didn't want it to get much closer either. It didn't seem normal for a fox to walk up without a care in the world. After watching each other for what felt like several minutes, the fox turned around without ceremony and walked back into the forest. Elliot watched it go, wondering. He started to follow, and the fox didn't seem to mind. It didn't even look back. It just kept walking.

At first the trees were as he expected—the same small maples and oaks he had seen many times before—but as the fox led him deeper into the wilderness the trees began to grow large and unfamiliar. The fox was following an obvious path, but as the woods deepened, the forest floor cleared of smaller scrub and the distance between the trees became wider. He had the impression he'd stepped into some massive building, the dense canopy forming a glittering green roof overhead.

Suddenly, the leafy trees gave way to great towering pines. Elliot had never seen anything like it. Each time he thought he'd seen the biggest tree, another one appeared that was bigger still. Their footsteps were silent, and the wind blowing through the needles above made that massive sound that can only be found in large spaces—the gray, smooth tone of obstructed wind.

From the darkness ahead, among the trees, a voice began to sing. It sounded like one voice, but it was both low and high like the cry of an elk. Its melodies wove in and out of each other, merging in an impossible way, making a single unearthly tone. Elliot wondered if it was some animal. The fox began to trot and Elliot lost sight of it. He made his way through a thicket, following the voice as the scent of the trees played darkly against his nose—an earthy musk mingling with the sharp scent of pine. Somewhere within this bouquet he caught whiff of a fire, and soon the trees began to thin.

When he stepped out into a clearing, he saw the fox sitting by a fire next to a strange creature. They were in the middle of the meadow, surrounded by pines on all sides. The creature might have been a boy once, with dark hair and eyes, but he had long ears like a deer, and his eyes were tilted and widely spaced. The face would have been unsettling if it hadn't been so open and kind. This creature, this boy, was wearing a bright red robe that seemed to gather and float around him in layers, gold stitching catching the sun in flashes. The song—or call—was coming from his mouth, and as the tones changed, a mysterious light rippled out around him, distorting the air.

Then there were the butterflies. The clearing was full of them, coming out of the fire like massive embers, fluttering and dropping sparks from their wings. As the smoke billowed out, it would curl into elegant shapes and tie itself over, popping into vivid color. The butterflies were circling around the singing boy so densely they were casting a glow that was almost too bright to see.

"Elliot!" The boy said, noticing him as he stepped out from the tree line, "come play with the fox, he's been pining for you!"

Elliot didn't know what to say. When he didn't move, the boy stood up and ran over to him, taking his hand and pulling him towards the fire. He was very small, which is why Elliot thought of him as a boy, but his face was ageless and seemed older than any of the rocks or trees around them. Even up close, his eyes had no color. They were black as night.

As they moved through the grass, the butterflies took flight around their feet, arching into the air over their heads in a hypnotic swirl. Their wings refracted the sun like crystals and the air filled with shimmering rainbows. The boy sat by the fire, and pulled Elliot down beside him onto the long grass. He hadn't noticed, but the day had gotten cool, and the fire was lovely.

The fox came over to him and gave him a long look, then barked and stepped back, shaking its head.

"Yes, I can see it now," the boy said. "You have no idea who I am, do you?" He laughed magnificently, and the fox made a warbling chirp. The whole forest laughed along with them. "Well, it had to happen eventually, didn't it little fox? Elliot, my name is Michael. This must be your first day."

Finally, Elliot found his voice. "My first day? What does that mean?"

"I suppose it'll make more sense later, but you are my greatest friend. We've spent so much time together. You have a funny mind, though. Your memories get all mixed up." The fox barked, making Elliot jump. "It's true, you silly fox, I'm just trying to be as accurate as I can."

"How else could you describe it?" Elliot asked.

"Well, I suppose you could say you live in time differently. That's not how time works, though. I don't like that explanation."

Elliot thought about this. "So, I've never met you, but you think we're great friends?" He shook his head. "Maybe you're just crazy."

The boy laughed again. "That could be true as well. I'm crazy by most definitions."

"What have we done together?"

"Ah, the things we've built! The stories we've told! You are a great creative mind, Elliot. I am potential. Together we are artist and muse, painter and brush. I had to find someone outside of myself. It looks like I found you. Neither the inconvenience of time nor space could keep us from meeting eventually. Our great work lies ahead of us."

"I don't understand," Elliot said. "If you already know me, and we've already done great things, then how is this our first meeting?"

"Like I said, you don't like to do things in a linear way. You'll probably forget this happened but have some other memories in the future. I guess it doesn't really matter. Your reality isn't the same as mine, or this fox's, or those trees'. Something about you pops in and out of time. This is the beginning for you, but the middle for everyone else. It does make things difficult, but we can work around it."

Elliot thought about this. "You know, if this was true, wouldn't I notice it happening? Everything in my life seems to have gone in order so far."

Michael looked at him perplexed, then a sudden understanding seemed to pass over his face. "Oh no! It must have been my fault!"

Elliot's eyes went unfocused for a moment and his head drooped, then he looked around and started to laugh. "Oh, yes, I remember this day."

Michael looked at him, his brows furrowed.

"Don't worry Michael, I know who you are. And yes, I think you were correct back then. Or, I mean, just now. It was your fault!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Elliot. Where did you end up after our conversation?"

"I can't even remember. I did a lot of wandering after you led me into the woods. The fox helped me out, though."

"That's good. It helped me out as well, a long time ago."

They looked at the fox, chasing after the butterflies.

"It's not really a fox, though, is it?"

"No," Michael said. "But that doesn't mean much."